While You're Awake

by Stokes, Amber

  Hmm. That didn’t come out quite the way he’d wanted it to.

  Tired Girl didn’t get mad, though. Surprisingly. Wasn’t it supposed to be a proven fact that girls with red hair were quick to get angry? Maybe it was because her hair bordered on the color of sweet potatoes baked with honey.

  Instead, she dismissed him with a limp wave of her hand. “I’m fine. I just have to…get to work.” Lines appeared in her forehead as she glanced down at the fingers of her right hand, now hovering over the keyboard.

  He waited a few seconds, but no clicking sounds commenced. That told him all he needed to know. He tilted his chin to one hand. “Go ahead. Don’t let me keep you.”

  The conversations flowed all around them, and he had almost tuned in to one between a couple behind him before Tired Girl raised a hand to her cheek and scratched absently. “Well…”

  He continued watching her, unmoving and practically unblinking. Too much staring-contest practice with his little brother had prepared him for this sort of thing.

  “I just”—she took a painfully slow sip of her mochaccino—“can’t really concentrate with you looking at me like that.”

  Keegan sighed and let his hands collapse into a clasped position on the hard tabletop. “I’m sorry. You’ve just got me worried. That crash was pretty spectacular.”

  She glanced at the floor behind her, as if the debris from an explosion would give evidence to his claim. A smile rose to his mouth as she turned her attention back to him, a pink tinge to her pale cheeks. “It wasn’t so bad,” she muttered, shaking her head. The motion produced another wince as she automatically tightened her grip on the bag of ice.

  She caught him watching her and—too late—masked her pain with raised brows and a puzzled frown.

  “Nice try.” The words slipped from Keegan’s mouth as if the two of them were best friends or something. Well, if that’s what it took to convince TG to abandon whatever she was working on and take care of herself, he’d become her new BFF.

  He leaned forward, and she continued regarding him with wide, dazed eyes. Praying that she hadn’t had a chance to get far in her work without saving it, he gently pushed the lid of her laptop, holding her gaze as he did so. She didn’t snap out of it until the lid clicked shut.

  “What…?” The slender fingers of her unoccupied hand reached out and rested on the lid, and she gave a pitiful tug to lift it. His hand remained settled firmly on top of the device.

  Something sparked in her expression. “What do you think you’re doing? I’ve got things to do.” She tugged again, and then the ember died. “Please,” she whispered,” I have deadlines.”

  “And they’ll still be there after you’ve gotten some rest.” While he wasn’t heartless, he felt convinced of his choice when she sat back and didn’t protest further—even as he got to his feet, lifted her bag, and slid the laptop into it.

  “Come on.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and put his hand under her elbow, supporting her into a standing position, huffing out a breath when she set the bag of ice on the table.

  Her purse also lay abandoned by her chair, so Keegan scooped it up and added it to his shoulder before turning to lead Ava through the sandaled feet and haphazard chairs. In a particularly crowded spot, he felt her grip the back of his shirt, the soft material bunching in a knot and pulling across his shoulders. He smiled.

  Her fingers fell away when they reached the counter, but he could sense her hovering directly behind him. It only took a moment for him to catch Mary’s attention. Her startled look jumped between the bags he carried and the red-haired girl he assumed was visible beyond his own dark blond head.

  Keegan shrugged with his free shoulder. “I’ve gottta take care of something. You and Fay got it covered? I’ll be back in a bit and help close later, ’K?”

  Someone cleared their throat over by the register. Mary offered the customer a placating smile and threw an “all right” behind her as she walked over to take the person’s order.

  Keegan headed toward the door and held it open, expecting Ava to pass through. But she remained rooted by the counter.

  Stubborn. Not surprising. He offered her his most winning smile and tilted his head toward the sunny sky and crowded parking lot.

  With a determined scrunch of her strawberry eyebrows, she slowly made her way toward him. Instead of heading outside, though, she attempted to pull her purse over his arm. “You’re working,” she said as he tightened his muscles and stepped back. She hung on, clearly frustrated. “I’ve got it.” Another tug. “You’re right. I should try to get some sleep. But I can take it from here.”

  When she persisted in her efforts to take her stuff from him, he swung back a bit, securing her bags between him and the wall. “Hey.” He waited until her confused gaze met his before he continued, “I don’t mind. Let me help. I wanna help, okay?”

  She stared at him a moment longer, then made the mistake of shaking her head. She winced and obviously decided there was no use fighting him on this. Finally.

  Still holding her stuff and the edge of the door, he moved forward, crowding her space until he had successfully shepherded her outside. They stood side by side on the sidewalk. The pale blue of the sky painted a soft background that highlighted the sharp green of the tall trees planted near the street. Ava squinted against the light.

  “Which one’s yours?” Keegan prompted.

  She stepped off the sidewalk and stumbled.

  He rushed forward, but she got her feet under her just as he grabbed her arm. With the tiniest of nods—she’d apparently learned her lesson there—she continued on, a little white Honda Civic her apparent goal. She said nothing as he slid his hand down her arm and latched onto her open palm, keeping her walking straight and steady until they reached the driver’s side.

  He handed over the purse after reluctantly letting her hand go. She rummaged around in the cluttered bag and emerged with a set of car keys. He let her unlock the door, then opened the side door and placed her laptop bag on the back seat. Then he held out his hand again.

  “Keys?”

  A vulnerable shadow crossed her face. “Why?”

  “I’m driving you home.”

  She shook her head vehemently—never mind; she’d learned nothing—the motion causing her to stagger back against the driver’s door. “Truly,” she gritted out, her ponytail quivering in the light wind, “I’ve got it from here.” When he made no move to leave, she sighed. “I appreciate your help, but I’ll be fine.”

  Mm-hm. Yeah.

  Her gaze darted around the parking lot. Great, he’d managed to make her think he was some sort of creeper trying to kidnap her or get her alone somewhere. His turn to wince.

  He closed the side door and stuffed his hands into his apron pockets, trying to look non-threatening. “If you won’t let me drive you home, is there someone I can call? I just don’t think it’s safe for you to drive right now.”

  It surprised him to see her face fall, her lowered lids blocking what he had briefly glimpsed of her pained expression. All was silent for several heartbeats except for the breeze teasingly ruffling some leaves and a few cars rolling by on the street. He shifted on his feet and decided to lay out their options. “If you’d rather I drive my car, you can catch a ride with me, and I’ll pick you up later so you can come get your car. Or I can bring you home in your car and get a friend to bring me back.”

  “I can’t let you get stuck at my place.” Her chin firmed, her blue eyes relentless. Like a parched, ever-burning desert sky.

  “Then we’ll take my car.”

  “You don’t even know where I live.”

  “That’s why you’ll give me directions.”

  He waited, but she didn’t come up with any more excuses. She locked the car and stuffed the keys into the bottomless pit of her beige purse.

  Standing taller, conscience lighter, he led the way to his truck, parked several spaces down from her little car. He joined her on the passenger’s
side and, hands on her waist, gave her a boost, pausing outside her door to make sure she got her seat belt on and didn’t somehow fall out in the process. A whiff of last night’s pizza run lingered in the cab and made his stomach grumble in annoyance from his pitiful attempt at breakfast this morning.

  After rounding the truck, he hopped into the driver’s seat. A quick peek showed Tired Girl with stooped shoulders, clutching her purse in her lap like she was afraid he’d steal it. “Where to?” he asked.

  “Just a bit outside of town. To the north.”

  For the remainder of the drive, she pointed out a few turns when necessary, but otherwise remained silent. When her last direction came out slurred, he glanced over sharply. Her head listed to the side, the crown of her red hair brushing the glass of the window.

  He imagined how uncomfortable Ava must be and pressed a little harder on the gas pedal. Soon he spotted the house she had described. He pulled into the gravel drive and jumped out as soon as he had turned off the ignition. This part would be tricky. Bracing himself, he opened the passenger’s door inch by inch.

  Ava lifted her head, mumbled something he couldn’t understand, then turned and relaxed against the seat. Like his three-year-old niece, who always fell asleep in the car and forced him or her dad to carry her inside. Cute little bugger.

  Ava was cute, too, the way she curled to the side in a pouting sort of gesture. If only it were because she was teasing and not because she was completely exhausted and possibly injured.

  He frowned. “Okay, Tired Girl, let’s get you inside. I promise, you’ll be way more comfortable in there than in my cramped truck.”

  He didn’t expect her to respond, but he wished she would. Setting one foot on the running board, he leaned in and unbuckled her seat belt. The warmth of her breath on his arm caused strange sensations to buzz around his body.

  Carefully, he gathered her in his arms and eased her out of the truck. Her ponytail fluttered in the gathering wind, a trail of cinnamon dust, warm in the light.

  As Keegan approached the door, he cursed himself for being so foolish. He had forgotten to grab her keys out of her purse. Hoping beyond hope, he shifted Ava closer to his chest and turned the door knob—and it swung open freely. Crisis averted.

  With hardly a glance, he passed through the main room and carried Ava into her bedroom. The bed was covered with a homey quilt with some sort of star pattern in shades of orange, gold, and tan. A fake tree leaned toward the headboard, and vases of fake flowers covered the nightstand and dresser. The window appeared to be locked tight, the air stale as he took in a deep breath and laid Tired Girl on top of the quilt.

  Should he tuck her in? The afternoon seemed a little too warm for that. He reached out to unlock the window, sliding it partially open so some fresh air could find its way inside. Another deep breath. Much better.

  He looked down and let relief drip through him at the relaxed look on her face. He would check in on her after work and bring her back to get her car. If she was still feeling sluggish by the end of the day, he’d be sure to admonish her to get checked by a doctor. For now, the best thing would be sleep, for sure.

  Tearing his eyes away from the cozy sight of Tired Girl curled on her side atop her quilt, he headed back to the main room in search of pen and paper. He’d leave her a note, retrieve her purse from the car, and then attempt to return his day back to normal.

  He laughed aloud at the thought.

  Chapter 3

  Ava whimpered and rolled over, barely registering the sound of a door closing before silence descended on the house. Wait.

  She sat up, glancing down at her rumpled quilt. That guy from Angels’—he brought her home. She remembered that. But try as she might, she couldn’t remember anything about the ride, or even the guy’s name.

  She must have fallen asleep in the car. How long had she been out? Not nearly long enough to make up for all the sleepless nights, if her weighted lids and lack of energy were any indication.

  A gentle breeze found her, and she shivered. Registering the sensation, she whirled around and nearly fell off the bed in her haste to slam the window shut. Had that guy opened it? Why? All sorts of bugs could have gotten through!

  Her gaze flew across the ceiling and over the walls, but everything seemed safe. For now.

  With a sigh, she lay back down, but sleep wouldn’t return. Her finger throbbed. Her heartbeat thudded. With her ear turned to her pillow, her pulse and breathing sounded like an obnoxious rock beat at a concert she’d rather not attend.

  After several minutes of trying to claim the sleep her body and mind desperately craved, she gave up. She rolled gracelessly to her side and pushed herself to her feet.

  On the dining room table she found her purse, with her cell phone and a note beside it.

  Hey Tired Girl. Sorry I didn’t say goodbye but you needed the sleep. You’ll probably still be out when I return, but just in case I’ll be back after work (about 9) so I can take you to your car. I put my number in your phone if you need to reach me. Get some sleep! See you soon.

  The oddest little flutter darted through her belly, then vanished. The letter, combined with the ghost of odd sensations, left her wide-awake, though. Probably that sip of coffee kicking in, too. She suddenly wished she’d had the chance to drink the whole cup.

  As it was, she had to find a way to occupy herself while she waited for Angel Boy—she had to give him a nickname, if he was going to call her something like “Tired Girl”—and the return of her laptop, which was sitting inside her car at the coffee shop.

  The buzzing began as soon as she started tackling the dirty dishes in the sink.

  ∞∞∞

  Keegan returned to Ava’s place expecting the little house to be dark and quiet in the coming night. Instead, light glared at him from several rooms, and OneRepublic played loud enough for him to recognize the song “If I Lose Myself” through the closed doors and windows.

  So much for the girl getting some much-needed sleep.

  He hopped out of the truck, the slam of the car door punctuating the beat of the music. He had to knock twice before the volume lowered and footsteps approached the other side. The click of the lock preceded the slow turn of the knob, and finally Ava’s blue gaze appeared in the space between the door and the jamb.

  “Hey,” he offered, noting the shadows beneath her eyes that seemed even more pronounced in the glare from her lit-up home.

  “Hey,” she replied without moving back to let him in or forward to follow him to his truck.

  Silence gave way to a subdued crescendo in the music and the catchy bridge. He tapped his fingers on his thighs, caught up in the familiar lyrics about overcoming. Tired Girl noticed the movement and her lips lifted the tiniest bit in the corners. He grinned back.

  “So…should we go pick up your car?”

  “Sure.” Her words were positive, although her tone sounded hollow. Had to be a symptom of the exhaustion that weighed down her slender shoulders. “Let me just grab my keys.”

  She didn’t invite him in, but she didn’t close the door behind her. And hey, he had been inside already today. With a gentle shove of the door, he entered the living area.

  And stopped in his tracks.

  Keegan’s brow furrowed as his mind went into overtime, trying to make sense of the black fuzz littering the carpet and the sill of the nearest window. One of the spots moved, the half-hearted crawl of something on its last legs.

  His boots ate up the space and brought him to crouch next to the dying honey bee. He stretched out a hand, intending to scoop up the poor creature. But a gasp brought his head up.

  Panic shone through Ava’s wide eyes and vibrated through the hand clutching her keys. She stood rooted by a small kitchen table, trembling.

  Keegan knew that species of fear. His heart started racing in response.

  Breathe. High school was a long time in the past. He could handle bees.

  “It’s all right.” The insect’s
fuzzy legs tickled his palm as he nudged it onto his hand and got to his feet. “It’s pretty lethargic. It’s not going to sting anyone.”

  Tired Girl shook her head, and he startled as he noticed tears on her cheeks in the bright light. She was crying? Why?

  Had she already been stung? Attacked by this dying swarm?

  Concern caused him to rush through the process of releasing the bee out into the tall grass of Ava’s front yard. As soon as the creature left his hand, he rushed back into the house and joined Ava by the table.

  He scanned her face and arms, looking for the telltale swelling. A deep breath filled his lungs and released slowly as he realized she was fine. Physically, anyway.

  He looked up to find new tears pooling in the darkness beneath her lashes. “Oh, hey.” His arm rose involuntarily, and he began to rub her shoulder in what he hoped were soothing motions. He glanced back at the bees, his own shoulders deflating at the loss. While he was as guilty as anyone when it came to killing offending bugs that entered his personal space, he was raised to respect the role of honey bees.

  “What happened?” he asked after a few moments of watching helplessly as the tears fell one by one.

  Ava shook her head, gulping in a shuddering breath. She rubbed tight fists over her closed eyes, then held out her palm, showing him the car keys. “I’m sorry. We can go now—I’ve got the keys.”

  He blinked. Wait…what?

  He dropped his hand and tried again. “What happened with the bees?”

  “They got in somehow. I—I wasn’t able to let them out.” Guilt resided in that hesitation. And fear.

  Before he could question her further, she spun away and hurried through the house, turning off the music and all the lights as she went along. He took one last look at the spot where the dead bees now blended into the shadows, then followed Ava out the door.

  Ava crunched across the gravel and climbed into the passenger’s side of his truck. Keegan rounded the hood and got into the driver’s side, the cab painfully silent as he started the engine. He backed the vehicle out of the drive and drove onto the paved road, trying to decide how much he should involve himself in Ava’s life. He’d only just met her. Prying should be reserved for friends, not strangers.